Return
by Verdreht
Summary: It'd been months since Logan had recived the news. Remy LeBeau, Gambit, was dead. Left behind in Antartica. He wasn't coming back...so why is Logan seeing him now? Will he find his Cajun, and if he does, will Remy be the same person? Slash RemyxLogan
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Alright, so just to warn you, this fic is gonna have some serious whumpage. If that's not your thing (blasphemy!) then you should probably turn back now. If it just so happens that that rubs your buddha though, sit back, read, and enjoy! And don't forget to review (the more reviews, the more I feel like writing on something)!

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Logan sighed and sipped at his third beer of the evening. Sometimes, it was annoying to have a healing factor that wouldn't let you get drunk. Scratch that, with the exception of drinking contests, it was _always_ annoying to have a healing factor that prevented you from getting drunk.

Scott, Jean, and Ororo seemed to be having no such trouble. With all the kids at home, and another mission well accomplished, it was time for them to relax and unwind a little bit. Logan supposed he would be the one driving back – it was a good thing he had agreed to ride with them, instead of taking his bike – since he doubted it would be a good idea for any of the others to drive. Well, maybe not Ororo. She was still on her first beer.

"It _is_ nice to get away sometimes," Ororo said.

"It is," Jean agreed, as Scott leaned over and kissed her. Logan decided that was his cue to go. Not that he still had a thing for Jean – he'd grown out of that. He just didn't really care for the mushy crap the two had a tendency to do in public.

"I'm going to go take a leak," he said after he chugged the rest of his beer. He stood up, sliding the stool back under him. They were sitting at a round table in the corner of the bar, instead of at the actual bar. Jean never let them sit at the bar, because she said it was harder to talk that way. Logan didn't see any reason to point out that when he was drinking, he would be perfectly content to _not_ talk to them.

He distinctly heard Scott mumble "charming" under his breath as he left, and he smirked to himself. Anything he could do to rub Scott the wrong way was a victory for him.

He made his way to the restrooms which happened to be on the other side of the bar. As he was walking though, he thought he saw something that he doubted was possible. Auburn hair and a brown jacket that he'd only seen on one person before in his life. When he swung around to do a double-take though, he found the bar seat empty. As he contemplated the idea of seeing things being a sign of insanity, he walked into the bathroom.

When he returned, the chit chat was going on like normal. Jean and Scott had gotten a bit closer since he'd left, and Ororo regarded their high school antics with an amused sort of look.

"I ordered you another beer," she said when he sat down. He nodded his thanks and sat down again, sipping the ice cold beverage. Say what you want to about alcohol, even if beer wasn't one of the nicer, fancier drinks, it was the best in his opinion. He'd lost his taste for bourbon after Antarctica…

He shuddered, and took an especially long swig of his beer. Ororo noticed, as she always did, but she didn't say anything. Jean and Scott were too immersed in one another to notice a nuclear explosion, Logan was willing to bet.

After another half an hour or so, it was time to go. Scott paid the check, and they all piled into the jeep, with Logan driving. As they were on their way out though, again, he could've sworn he saw a head of auburn hair, but on second glance, it wasn't there. He shook his head, and chided himself. Maybe the alcohol was getting to him a little more than he thought.

On the drive to the mansion, everything was quiet. Well, Jean was giggling like a school girl – she had a tendency to do that when she was drunk – but other than that, it was quiet. Eventually, Logan turned on the music. He got frustrated by silence, and so the soft rock that came through the speakers was a welcome change.

They got to the mansion, and everyone went off to their rooms. Well, at least, Jean and Scott went their own way. Ororo, however, hung back, and tapped Logan on the shoulder as he was heading to the kitchen for a late night snack.

"Hn?" he grunted, grabbing a bag of chips out of the cupboard. One good thing about living in a house full of teenagers was that there was always a healthy supply of junk food.

"Is everything alright, my friend?" she asked, her voice soft, and hushed to avoid waking the kids. Her eyes showed her concern more clearly than usual.

"What're you talkin' about?" Logan asked around a mouthful of chips.

"You seem a bit…preoccupied." Which was Ororo's way of saying "you're acting really weird. What's going on?"

"It's nothing. Just thought I saw someone," he said. Ororo seemed to accept that answer, but added before she left,

"Well, if there is something you would like to talk about, you know where to find me." Logan chuckled, and nodded, and Ororo left. Ororo had been, and probably always would be, the mother of the group. It was kind of funny, really. He was older than all of them, but she still regarded him with matronly concern.

Chips in hand, Logan padded up to his room, ready to sleep. He showered first, to get the smell of alcohol, sweat, and smoke off, and then plopped in bed and was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

The next afternoon, Logan was in the garage messing with his bike when the mansion alarm went off. He dropped his tools where he was, and ran off for the Professor's office. He bet up with Jean on the way, who had been teaching a class.

"Do you know what's going on?" he asked. She probably would. The professor usually kept her updated on stuff like that.

"It's the Brotherhood again," she told him as they sped into the office. The professor was waiting there, along with Scott, Ororo, Bobby, Rogue, and Kitty. They were all already suited up, and Logan quickly set about joining them.

When he came back into the room, they had already been briefed. Thanks to the Professor's telepathy, he caught the conversation, and was up to speed with the rest of them. They all made for the jet, strapped in, and then they took off. Logan had never liked flying. He had decided that man was not meant to fly, because if they were, they would have been given wings. Since they weren't, then he figured that the ground was where they were meant to be, and it was not a boundary he cared to cross.

"What's the plan?" Logan asked.

Of course Scott was the one that answered. "We're going to land a little ways away, and move in. Storm, you're going to watch for aerial disturbances, and keep the sky clear. Watch for any Brotherhood interference from the sky." Storm nodded. "Jean's going to go in with Kitty and try to get as many of the workers out here as possible. Bobby, you, and I are going to go straight in." Though Logan didn't like being given orders, he certainly couldn't argue with the whole "go straight for the bad guy" mentality. The Professor had already said that Magneto wasn't there, so from that point, it was fair game. Sabertooth was there, and Logan had decided that the two of them were enemies. He didn't know why, and he didn't particularly care, he just knew of all the Brotherhood, he disliked him the most. Well, Magneto was pretty up there, but that didn't matter.

They landed a mile or so away from where the disturbance was. It was at a lab that had been doing research into mutants. They thought they had developed a means to make the cure permanent. They had found out rather quickly that the mutants that had been vaccinated with the last "cure" had quickly regained their powers, and most in a violent and abrupt fashion. They were searching for a way to fix it.

Of course, the Brotherhood just wouldn't have any of that. They had raided the place, and gone after the main scientists. And that was why the X-men were there. Help the helpless and all that.

They had drawn everyone out. It was easy enough, rounding up all of the scientists. Jean and Kitty had led them back to the jet, and they were safe and sound. Now all that remained were Sabertooth, Toad, Mystique, and Torch. They'd already finished off Toad, and Mystique, but Bobby, Ororo, and Scott had all been incapacitated. One of the scientists hadn't listened when they'd told him what to do, and they had been knocked unconscious saving him.

That left Jean, and Kitty, who were watching the prisoners, and Logan to take on Sabertooth and the Torch. That wasn't working so well, and Logan had been cornered.

Sabertooth prepared to advance, but before he could launch himself at Logan, an explosion erupted in front of him. Logan had no idea where it came from, and turned around, expecting that it was the Torch, but to his amazement, he discovered that said mutant had been knocked out cold. That left only Sabertooth, who had been stunned beyond belief. That left him easy to beat, and Logan tackled him, and slammed his head into the hard concrete that was the ground. The impact knocked the beast of a man unconscious.

Logan jumped up, and started scanning the area, trying to find out who was responsible for the impromptu explosion that had helped to save him from what could have been a very messy situation. Whoever it was, they were long gone.

Logan was about to start hauling his friends onto the jet when his nose caught a scent. It was a scent he hadn't smelled in a long time. It was the scent of a forest after a rain, mixed with spices that enticed the senses.

"Gambit…" Logan whispered. The scent was unmistakable, but to be sure, he went to look at the site of the explosion. If it really was Gambit, then he couldn't expect to see any remains of the explosive. The Cajun's kinetic energy left a charge though – no normal person would sense it, but as soon as Logan got close, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and his instincts screamed that the Cajun was responsible. He gaped. He had been sure he was dead – he had to be, if Rogue was right, but there was no mistaking it – everything around was so…Remy.

He forced himself to focus though, and set about working to get his friend back to safety. Jean helped, of course, bringing the jet by, but by that time, everyone had woken up except for the Brotherhood, who Jean had kept out until they all got away. The Professor had said to bring the scientists back, and that he knew a place where they could continue their studies in peace.


	2. Chapter 2

When everyone was back in their rightful places, Logan decided he had to do something. He had to find Gambit, if he was out there. But where to start? He had seen him at the bar, that much he was sure of now. That seemed as good a place as any to start. And that he did.

"Hey Storm, I'm headin' out," he said, heading for the garage.

"Alright, be careful," she said. That was the thing about Ororo. She didn't demand explanations, and she wasn't overbearing. She just made sure you took care of yourself, and when you didn't, she took care of you.

Logan waved haphazardly behind him, and went out. He decided against taking his bike – it was raining really hard outside. Instead, he took the jeep.

When he got to the bar, he went in and sat in the corner. Not where they'd been sitting, but where he had a clear view of the bar, while he couldn't easily be seen. He had the feeling that Gambit didn't want to be seen. _If he's even here_, Logan added mentally, shaking his head. He couldn't believe he was doing this. Gambit was dead – Rogue had said so. As of late though, he had to admit, he was starting to lose faith in the girl.

He ordered a beer to keep him busy as he sat at the bar. He had been drinking for a while before he heard shouting. No one else heard it, he was willing to bet. He heard it thanks to his mutation.

Slapping down some bills to pay for his drink, he left the bar, sliding into his leather jacket, and running around to the back where he'd heard the noise. It was a fight. There were about ten people, and from the looks of it, nine of them were ganged up on one of them. He was able to make out a brown leather trench coat, and that was all it took for him to leap into action. He jumped into the tussle, pushing the men away from the one in the center. They had knives, he realized with a start.

"You better stay out of this!" one of them slurred. Logan rolled his eyes, and punched the guy in the face hard enough to put his lights out for a good long while. The rest of his friends jumped him after that, but they were all so drunk they probably didn't know which of him was the one they were fighting.

They were all on the ground less than a minute later. Looking around, Logan couldn't help but smirk. That was until he realized that the guy he'd saved was no longer around. It was Gambit, no doubt though. The auburn hair, and distinct scent made him certain.

Dashing around to the front, he got there just in time to see a flash of brown turn the corner out of the parking lot. He knew that there was a motel down the road, and reasoned that the Cajun was going to walk there. Not on his watch though.

Logan tore down after him, but it seemed he wasn't as light as he should have been. Gambit sped up, his long legs carrying him impossibly fast. Logan could smell the alcohol though, and while the guy was no lightweight, just the smell was enough to make Logan feel drunk.

Needless to say, he caught up with him, grabbing his shoulder and spinning him around. The figure, sopping wet and inebriated, shouted loudly. He looked about ready to tear into the guy that had stopped him, a charged card in his hand and ready to throw.

"Hey, Gumbo. Long time no see," Logan said. The charge flickered out and the card fell harmlessly to the ground.

Gambit stood stock still in the soaking rain. He had on sunglasses, probably to hide his unique eyes, and his clothes hung off his frame, heavy from the water. He was still tall as he'd always been, but instead of the proud stance he normally had, his shoulders were slumped, and his posture was low. He had a gaping cut across the side of his neck, and the blood seeped into his light blue button-up.

Suddenly, he spoke. "Sorry suh, can' say this one knows who y' talkin' 'bout," he said, and then turned to keep walking, shoving his hands in his pockets. Logan knew his hands were on the cards he'd stored there, and he was ready to attack.

"Hey, wait!" Logan said, walking after him. Gambit didn't slow down. "Hey, Gambit!" Still, no stopping. "Shit Remy, stop!" He froze. Logan seized the opportunity to cut in front of him. "I know it's you, Gambit, so you might as well give it up."

"What y' wan', Logan?" Gambit mumbled, his face lowered. The rain dripped through his hair, and had long since soaked him through, despite his trench coat.

"How are you…?" Logan didn't know what to say.

"Alive? Lucky, Gambit guesses," he said. "'N Gambit intends t' stay tha' way, so if y' don' mind, Gambit'll be headin' now." He moved to walk past Logan, but Logan wouldn't have it. Gambit was alive! He had mourned him ever since he'd heard of his passing – _his_ Gambit was alive. He wasn't going to let him walk away.

A stumble made it clear that he didn't have to worry about the other literally walking away. He was drunk. Extremely. "Why don't you hold on a second?" Logan asked, putting a hand on his shoulder to steady him. Gambit flinched away, shoving his hand off.

"Jus' leave Gambit be. He ain't doin' nothin'," he slurred out.

"Alright Gumbo, I think you've had too much to drink," Logan said, holding his hands up. "Why don't you just come back to the mansion for the night?"

"Y're crazy, Wolvie. Gambit ain't nevah goin' back dere," he protested, and started walking again…only to stumble and nearly face-plant. Logan caught him though, and hoisted him up, being extremely careful incase his neck wasn't the only place he was hurt. As it was, he just seemed drunk, tired, and upset.

"Come on, just for tonight, alright? We can stop by your motel room and pick up some stuff." _I just want to make sure you're real…and make sure you're alright._

"Gambit don'…how Wolvie know Gambit in a motel?" he asked, looking genuinely perplexed.

"It's where you're walkin', right?" Logan said. Gambit looked at him for a second, but then nodded. Logan took that as an "ok" and turned them around to walk them to the jeep. When they got in the jeep, Logan took the opportunity to flip on the lights in the vehicle to get a better look at Gambit.

There was a spot on his cheek, along his jaw, that was quickly reddening. He'd been punched there, obviously. If the other guys were any indication though, he'd gotten in more than his fair share of blows. It was the cut on his neck that worried him though. He reached into the glove box and pulled out a handful of tissues which he wadded together and was about to put on the cut, but Gambit jerked away again.

"Easy, Gumbo. I'm just tryin' to clean you up," he said, and put the tissues to the wound. Gambit hissed, but Logan put a hand on the other side of his neck to keep him still as he applied pressure. "Can you hold that there?" he asked. Gambit nodded, and put his hand on it. Logan noticed then that his long, slender hands were shaking horribly. "You okay?" he asked.

Gambit laughed. Not the cheerful laugh he normally gave, but a short, biting, sardonic laugh. It still sounded like silk. "Gambit jus' got found by one th' people he 's hopin' t' avoid. 'N Gambit 's drunk, 'n alone in a car wit' Wolvie." As he continued, it sounded more and more like he was talking to himself. Logan started to wonder if maybe he wasn't just drunk after all.

He pushed that thought back, and drove them to the motel. It was the crappiest place Logan had seen in a long time, and he'd stayed in some winners. "You're not staying here," he said resolutely, and grabbed the small duffel from the foot of the bed. Gambit, who he'd sat on the corner of the bed, watched as he piled all of his clothes back into the duffel bag. Finally, he spoke.

"Wha' y' doin' Wolvie?" he asked.

"I just told you, you're not staying here."

"Gambit been stayin' here…" he mumbled. Logan shook his head, and, once the duffle bag was packed, he turned to him.

"Is there anything else around here?" he asked. Gambit shook his head.

"Only other stuff Gambit got, Gambit wearin'," he said. Logan nodded, and shouldered the duffel. He walked into the bathroom one more time, and grabbed a rag, which he wet with warm water.

"Here, you can move your hand," he said, and Gambit did as he was told, if not somewhat hesitantly. Kneeling on the bed beside the Cajun, he couldn't help but notice the way he edged away. He was like a spooked animal… "I'm not gonna hurt you," Logan assured him as he began peeling away the tissues. They had been soaked through with blood, some of which had dried, so removing the tissues was a bit of a pain. Gambit tensed, but stayed still, and let Logan remove the tissues, and wipe away the blood gently. When the wound was clean, Logan got a good look at it. It wasn't life threatening or anything, but it was still deep, and it looked painful. "Hold this on until we can get you fixed up the right way," Logan said, putting Gambits hand on the rag which he had pressed against his neck. Gambit nodded, not even wincing, but somewhere in the back of Logan's mind, he felt a stab of pain. He brushed it off as sympathy pangs.

Logan was going to help Gambit to the car, but he seemed to have gotten his feet back under him, and made it himself. He was fidgeting like mad though, the entire ride. "The others'll be happy to see you," he said. Gambit nodded absently, but didn't say anything as he stared out the window. His foot tapped, and his hands continued to shake.

Logan tried to make conversation, but the Cajun didn't seem to want to talk all that much. When he did talk, it was barely comprehensible through the heavy accent, the mumbling, and the alcohol-induced slurring. Glancing over, he saw the Cajun running his fingers along the fogging glass, tracing shapes with the knuckles of his slender fingers. Quietly, he hummed to himself, and Logan couldn't help but wonder what was going on in his head.

They had no sooner pulled in to the mansion than Gambit literally freaked out. "Goin' back t' de motel, Wolvie," he said, pulling at the door handle. Logan had locked it though. "'nlock the door!" he shouted, pulling at it with both hands, the rag dropped and forgotten.

"Take it easy Gumbo," Logan tried, pulling to a stop. Nothing doing. "Hey, nothing's gonna happen to you."

"Leh Gambit go!" he shouted, spinning to face Logan. His sunglasses had fallen off sometime in his panic, and his red on black eyes were impossibly wide. They were also black and blue, and one of them had a cut going straight down it. It didn't look fresh, and on closer inspection, he realized that there were three others faintly cast in raised pink skin. He knew immediately who the wounds were from.

"You've been with the Brotherhood?" he demanded. "That's where you've spent all this time?! I thought you were dead, and you were with the Brotherhood?!" Gambit shrunk back against the car door.

"Gambit wasn'…" he mumbled, eyes downcast. "Nevah wit' de Broderhood…Tryin' t' stop dem." Again, the pang of hurt. He realized suddenly that it wasn't his own. It was Gambit's. Suddenly Logan felt incredibly stupid. How could he have thought that Gambit had been working for the Brotherhood, when clearly he had been hurt by them.

Logan sighed. "I'm sorry, I believe you," he said. Gambit relaxed a little bit. "That doesn't mean you're not coming with me. You're beat to hell. Let's let Blue have a look at you."

"Non, Gambit not gon' let M. Bete have a look 't him. Gambit is fine," he insisted, going for the door again.

"Sorry Gumbo, but you ain't exactly in a position to argue," Logan said as he shut the car off. They were in the garage, and Logan hopped out, planning on walking around and letting Gambit out. The doors were still locked, after all.

That was, of course, before Gambit launched himself across the jeep, unlocked all the doors, and tore out of the back left seat, nearly on the opposite side of the vehicle as Logan. He sprinted as fast as his long legs could carry him, and made it all the way out of the garage, Logan tearing out after him. Logan wasn't drunk though, and he wasn't hurt, and he wasn't half blind from bruised and swollen eyes, even if Gambit did have the advantage of being able to see in the dark.

When Logan caught him, he wrapped his arms around him. He managed to encircle not only the Cajun's startlingly lithe waist, but his arms too, keeping him from flailing loose. That didn't stop him from kicking and screaming trying to get free.

"Merde! Ne touché pas! Laissez-moi partir!" he screamed, throwing his weight this way and that trying to get loose. Logan knew that if the thief really wanted to get away, he could. Not to say he didn't want to – he was nearly hysterical trying to get loose – but he wouldn't hurt someone else to do it.

"Easy, Remy, easy," Logan said softly, holding him tight. Gambit continued to twist and thrash until he heard a voice.

"Dear Goddess…" It was Ororo. "Remy, is that you?" she asked. Gambit's eyes widened even more, though with their swelling, Logan was willing to bet that that was about the extent they could do so.

Gambit didn't take long to remember what he was doing though, and the thrashing recommenced. He threw all his weight back into Logan, hoping to knock him off his balance, but it had an adverse effect. Logan merely lifted him off his feet.

"A little help here, Storm?" Logan asked. She nodded and stepped in front of him, holding out her hands towards him.

She took slow steps towards him, somehow avoiding Remy's flailing legs. No, not avoiding them, Logan realized. Remy was intentionally not kicking her. Logan, on the other hand, wasn't so lucky. He guess Remy figured that he would heal fast enough, and it wasn't like he could break his bones. "It's alright, brother, it's alright," Ororo said calmly, holding out a single hand for him. He watched her with wide, frightened eyes as she progressed. "Shh, you're safe, no need to fret," she told him. Finally, she got close enough to put a hand on his shoulder. A soft touch, calming, and gentle. Remy stilled. "There, see, it's okay," she said. "My Goddess, Remy, I can't believe you're alive…" Her hand drifted to his face to touch his cheek. She felt the warmth there, and made a face. "But not well. What has happened, brother?" She asked.

Remy made no move to answer, so Logan started. "He was in a fight at the bar when I found him, and I think he's had some run-ins with the Brotherhood," Logan explained. Remy tensed, and again, dropped his eyes. Ororo sighed.

"Well best get inside," she said. It was starting to rain harder, and though she and Logan were relatively dry, she with an umbrella, and Logan with his leather jacket, Remy was soaked through. Logan's best guess was that he'd removed his jacket sometime outside, because the thing would have kept the water out where it covered.

Logan nodded and started walking for the mansion, forcing Remy in with him. Ororo got the door for them. When they got inside, Remy nearly screamed in frustration. Waiting inside were Scott, Jean, and Hank.

"What on Earth is going—Oh my," Hank said, taking in the sight before him. "But I thought…"

Logan shook his head. "No, he's not dead, yes, this is Gambit, and do you mind?" he asked.

"D'you?" Gambit mumbled, jerking away from Logan.

"How are you alive?" Jean asked suddenly.

Gambit didn't even flinch. No, he did worse than that. He smiled _that_ smile. The one that he always smiled when he was upset and didn't want people to know. Logan doubted the others knew – Ororo probably did, of course, and he did, but that was because he could sense the empath's emotions. He could smell them. "Gambit got out 'f de Arctic before Gambit froze," he said. "Dere was a camp few miles 'way. Gambit got dere, 'n den got out. 'N Wolvie said Gambit coul' sleep here fo' de night, but Gambit don' mind goin' back to de motel if y'all don' wan' Gambit here," he said.

"No, we would like you to stay, Remy," Ororo said quickly. "You can have your old room, next to Logan." Remy nodded, and Ororo took his hand, getting ready to lead him upstairs. She could sense his malaise, and knew he wanted to get away from all of the prying eyes as soon as possible.

Before they left though, Hank held up a hand. "If you don't mind, Ororo, I would like to tend to his wounds before he turns in for the night." Gambit stiffened, and Ororo felt it. She paused for a moment, glancing at Logan for back up.

"How about you let the kid go up and change into somethin' dry, and then you can check him out?" Logan suggested, though his tone didn't leave room for argument. Hank hesitated, but nodded, and Ororo and Remy, followed by Logan (who had gotten Remy's bag from the jeep) went up the stairs.


	3. Chapter 3

Remy emerged from the bathroom in jeans and a black long sleeved t-shirt. The shirt clung to his frame in a way that could only be described as picturesque. He was more slender than Logan remembered, and Logan knew perhaps best of all how Remy had looked before. They had been so close back then…Logan remembered the day that he had found out that Remy had "died." He'd been out looking for a gift for the Cajun. He was planning on asking him to be his…well, none of that mattered anymore. Remy barely seemed able to tolerate the touch of others, and he was clearly no longer as comfortable around Logan (or anyone else for that matter) as he use to be.

"Come on, time to go," Logan said. He had changed as well, into some drier jeans, and a clean white undershirt. Ororo had left, saying she would be waiting down in the lab.

"Gambit gotta go t' the lab?" he asked, his voice whiney and tired. Logan nodded and moved for the door, but Gambit stayed put.

"Come on, Gumbo, the less you put it off, the faster you get it over with." Gambit frowned, but finally started following Logan. He dragged his feet a lot though, and it took them nearly ten minutes to finally get down to the lab. At the big white doors though, Gambit had a severe change of heart, like before, and Logan felt a spike of fear run through his chest. It wasn't his own. He knew that, and that made it slightly worse, knowing that he was about to make things a lot worse.

"Wolvie, Gambit tinks he's okay," he said, stopping. Logan shook his head.

"We're already down here, let's just get you looked at, alright?" Gambit shook his head, and Logan saw his muscles tense. He was getting ready to run.

Before he got the chance, the door slid open, and Logan grabbed him, pushing him into the lab. "There you are," Ororo said. "I was starting to think you weren't coming." She scanned Logan and Remy's predicament, with Remy leaning heavily back against Logan who was pushing him towards the door. With a sigh, and a shake of her head, she stepped forward and took his wrist. "Come now Remy, it's alright." Remy continued to struggle though, turning back and trying to run around Logan.

The larger man caught him around his waist as he moved past him, swinging him around into his chest. Remy, being the master thief he was, easily escaped the hold, ducking down and launching himself between Logan's legs. Just like that, he was off. Forcing his power through his legs, he was able to ignore the biting agony that shot through his left side, and ran with speed that Logan didn't know he possessed.

Ororo was the first to get over the shock, and ran after him, Logan quickly following suit. The Cajun had bolted out of the room and had disappeared, leaving Ororo clueless as to his whereabouts. Logan had his sense of smell though, and quickly found his trail, tearing off after him.

Luckily for him, Remy didn't know the mansion as well as he did. Logan managed to corral him into one of the interior rooms of the house, leaving him with no exits.

Logan reached the door into the room and immediately caught sight of Remy, his eyes darting around trying to find an exit. Realizing that he was trapped, the thief tried to bolt past Logan, but the other stuck his arm out, catching him around the waist and swinging him back into the room. Remy's eyes were wide now, and Logan could hear his heart beating unnaturally fast. He was afraid of them, Logan could smell it.

"It's okay, buddy, we're not gonna hurt you," Logan said, holding a hand out calmingly.

"Jus' get outta th' way an' Remy'll be outta y' hair," Remy said, reaching for his cards in his jean pockets.

"Brother, you don't need to use those," Ororo said, emerging from behind Logan. "You're among friends."

Remy laughed bitterly. "Friends…Remy ain' got friends…" He said, his eyes dark. Logan frowned. Was that what he really thought?

"That's not right and you know it," Logan said, trying to ignore the throbbing in his chest. "Remy, you know I—."

"Y' what, Logan? Y' missed me? Y're glad 'm back? 'cause tha' don' mean nothin'! That ain' nothin' but bein' civil! Remy ain' been nothin' but an annoyin' tool fo' all 'f y'all! Y'all ain' no friends 'f Remy's!" His voice got louder and louder, and both his hands charged as he spoke, cards in each. "Remy knew he didn' 'serve no friends, an' this whole time Remy was—." Logan silenced Remy with his lips on his, grabbing both his wrists as the other dropped the charges.

When Logan was sure Remy was sufficiently quieted, he broke the kiss. "No matter what you think, you stupid Cajun, you got people that care about you, and I just happen to be one of them."

"Logan…" Remy was quiet, and something in Logan almost broke. He hadn't planned on the last few seconds, and now he feared that he had forever killed his relationship with the Cajun.

To his amazement though, not seconds later, the two arms in his grasp wrenched free and he found himself being hugged very tightly by those same arms. He wrapped his own arms around the slender Cajun, looking to Ororo for some help. She just smiled at the two of them, folding her arms across her chest.

With the proximity though, he could smell the blood from the Cajun's neck, and he remembered what he was doing. With a sigh, he hooked his arm under the smaller man's legs and lifted him up. Remy let him for a second, but then they started moving, and he pushed away to stare at Logan curiously.

"I love ya, Gumbo, but I haven't forgotten where we were headin' before you pulled The Great Escape," Logan said, trying for both a humorous and reassuring tone. From the way Remy started squirming, Logan was willing to guess that it wasn't working.

Remy whined the entire way to the infirmary, but sat on the table nonetheless without causing too much trouble. He wasn't terribly happy when Hank started stitching up the gash on his neck, if his death grip on Logan's hand was any indication, but he tolerated it, and finally the ordeal was over.

As they were leaving the infirmary though, Logan noticed Remy was dragging his feet more than would be expected. It didn't seem to just be the fatigue.

"Rem?" he tried, stopping in front of him and tipping his chin up. That's when he realized that his Cajun was no longer awake. He had fallen asleep on his feet.

Chuckling to himself, Logan lifted Remy up bridal style and carried him up the stairs to his room. Remy woke up once to change into night clothes, but after that, he was dead to the world.


End file.
